


Prelude

by Shadow_Chaser



Series: K: Interludes [1]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Fushimi is like a prickly hedgehog, Gen, Munakata & Fushimi father-son dynamic, Munakata is a good King and captain, Post-Season 2, Reality ensues regarding injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 20:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20459006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Chaser/pseuds/Shadow_Chaser
Summary: The immediate aftermath of the destruction of the Dresden Slate. Fushimi returns to Sceptre 4 immediately begins to work on threat assessments, containment and most of all - living in a world post-Kings.Rated T for Fushimi's potty mouth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have not read any of the light novels though I am aware of them. This is based off of the 2 seasons of the anime, the movie "Missing Kings" and the OAV/Movies "K: Seven Stories."
> 
> Also I am obsessed with both Fushimi and Munakata. This story (and others) are heavily focused on them.

Prime Minister Samukawa was an idiot.

At least that was Fushimi Saruhiko's personal opinion. He sat in one of the Sceptre 4's interceptor armored cars – affectionately known as bearcats for their durability – as a medic tended to his leg wound. The sharp sting of the needle stitching together his torn flesh would have bothered even the most hardy, especially since it was quite deep, but Fushimi thought it just as unpleasant as a gnat. Physical pain never compared to the emotional ones he suffered at the hands of his father.

A blanket preserved most of his modesty, having been stripped of his pants to allow the medic to work on him. Half of the two doors that opened up was also closed to give him some privacy, but Fushimi had refused to leave the scene after it was suggested by Lieutenant Awashima to seek treatment. He would only leave when his captain and king commanded it.

He absently touched the jacket placed on his shoulders, providing him with additional warmth. Captain Munakata had personally placed the jacket on his shoulders as he had been guided to the bearcat by Akiyama and Domyoji. The former of the two had departed like a good fourth-in-command – and then acting-captain – to oversee the others while Domyoji had cheerfully stood nearby. It was both to guard him from any potential retaliation by enterprising Green Clan members, but also to ward off any curious onlookers.

He knew the captain's gesture was a calculated measure; designed to ensure that all who knew of his supposed defection to be false; that he was welcomed back like a hero. Fushimi sighed quietly.

“Only a little more to go, sir,” the medic took his sigh to be one of pain. “Please bear with it.”

Fushimi ignored the man's words. He absently touched the jacket again. Even though it was a calculated gesture, there was something about the way it had been placed that made him both warm with pride and with something in him that he had only associated with Misaki. He dared not call it happiness, but he supposed perhaps his injury was making him feel quite sentimental. Blood loss tended to do that...

He let his hand drop limply to his side as he focused on the view before him. He could see the emergency press conference the Prime Minister was holding in front of the giant gaping hole that was the remnants of JUNGLE's base of operations. Dust and smoke still rose from the underground lair, but the government's urban development bureau was already arriving on scene to start digging and sifting through the ten-layer rubble. Whatever was found would be taken into strict and confidential custody by Sceptre 4.

The prime minister was loudly proclaiming that his actions before in stripping Munakata of his position as captain was a ruse designed to ferret out traitorous elements that would harm the country. Currently the speech was publicly reinstating the captain to his position as head of Sceptre 4, but also to calm the public in wake of the Dresden Slate's full awakening. To Fushimi, the prime minister had fucked up – royally – and was now trying to cover his ass.

The quiet snip of the medic's scissors made him glance away from the press conference. He watched as a large white pad with a healthy dose of antiseptic was placed over the black stitches and taped up before the medic expertly rolled several layers of gauze around his upper thigh. It was tightened and smoothed out with expert tucks.

“All good, sir,” the medic bowed his head at him before stepping away and closing the door slightly to give him more privacy to change back into his clothes.

Fushimi gingerly pushed himself to his knees and reached over for the new clean pair of pants. Slipping them on in the cramped quarters of the bearcat was interesting, especially with the pain of his leg wound, but he nonetheless prevailed. Once done, he glanced at the rest of the uniform that had been laid out for him. The familiar white shirt and vest that had become like second skin to him seemed...foreign for the lack of a better word at the moment.

His eyes slid down to the comforting black jacket he had adopted as his Green Clan uniform. He was not so stupid as to openly wear such an item of clothing that could easily identify him. Still... Fushimi tugged the jacket that still hung from his shoulders. Perhaps it would be a compromise of sorts, until he could really sit and think about what had happened. He needed a proper debrief. It was protocol and it helped him collect his thoughts.

He slipped into the jacket that Munakata had hung from his shoulders, leaving the hood of the black jacket he wore hanging outside it. The familiar comforting weight of the item of clothing soothed him. It felt right, at the moment, that he was in the midst of transitioning from being affiliated with JUNGLE to being back as Sceptre 4's-

Fushimi paused. Was he still third-in-command? He quickly pushed that intrusive thought out of his mind as he grabbed his sabre and clipped it to his waist, held securely around the harness that all those in the Special Police Force of Sceptre 4 wore. Clipping and securing it against his own custom body harness that held all of his knives felt familiar. Even though the harness itself was devoid of his usual complement of knives, it was not the first time that he only had his sword on him. He pushed the door open and stepped out, gingerly standing on his feet.

Pain shot through his right leg, but he ignored it as he took a few tentative steps. Each step reminded him of the brat that deflected his knives back to him. He should have been quicker. Pushing the feeling aside, he slowly rounded the bearcat and made his way towards the command center truck that was always at the back of all Sceptre 4 deployments.

As he approached, he frowned, annoyance filling him. There was not even a single member of Sceptre 4 around the command truck! What the fuck was the deployment team thinking? Committing all forces to the attack was all well and good, but there should have at least been the third stringers guarding the command truck. Or at least someone who was competent enough to watch out for those coordinating the operations.

He gritted his teeth and opened the door, startling the two Intelligence Division operatives inside.

“Fushimi-san,” the one sitting closest to the door stuttered. Fushimi slid her a glance, her name instantly coming to mind. Sawano Sakura, a woman of twenty-seven years old and two months to the day, was naturally prone to stuttering, but had managed to stop it by sheer force of will. He supposed his appearance cause her to lose the composure, but that was not his problem. He quickly assessed her – she was a competent enough intelligence agent to be assigned communications on some of Sceptre 4's major assignments. Her presence here meant she must have been picked by the captain to handle communications.

Fushimi ignored the sharp agony that pierced him as he tightened his grip on the handle of the door and pulled himself up, trying to keep most of the weight off of his injured leg.

“Move,” he stated gruffly and she squeaked before sliding out of the seat. She handed him an earpiece which he immediately fitted in to listen to the comm chatter.

“S-Sir, coordinating between the urban development division and the local police-”

“Where's the perimeter?” he stated as he settled in his chair and started to type. His eyes scanned through the multitude of information he was now getting. “This is sloppy-assed work you idiots,” he growled out. “Why the fuck is there no perimeter here?!”

“S-Sir,” the other occupant of the truck, Sakimoto Miyuki was definitely not prone to stuttering and Fushimi glared at the older man. Thirty-one years old with six months and two days past his birthday, the man already had receding hair, making him far older than he looked. Miyuki was trained in analyst and research support. He was most definitely _not_ suited for command truck work.

Miyuki swallowed. “Sir, the others...we are...err...we were...technically absent without leave. The rest of Sceptre 4 is handling riots around the city because of the Slate's awakening. We came because Acting-Captain asked the Special Police Force to go and we so happen to over hear it while they were all running out. We...also didn't want the Intelligence Division to be at fault so, uh-”

“I knocked the others out with a ten-minute gas before we stole a bearcat to follow them...” Sakura finished quietly.

Fushimi snorted and rolled his eyes as he turned back to the screen. He knew exactly what canister the woman was talking about. _He_ developed it when he had first joined Sceptre 4 and the Intelligence Division before his transfer to Special Police Force and under the direct command of Munakata. It was designed to suppress Strains, but they could never get it past the ten-minute mark enough to make a difference when they were on raids. It also never worked on Beta level Strains either.

He glanced up at the newscast feed and saw the ticker scroll by with the updated news of what the idiotic prime minister was saying. Shaking his head he tapped out a series of emails and immediately sent them, priority level one. He activated the comm on his jacket and spoke into it. “All forces, fifteen minutes until a perimeter is set up. Find those assholes from HOMRA and let them know. Someone get me status update on the Silver and Green Clans. What is the situation on the riots?”

There were levels of squeals over the comm line to indicate the sudden adjustment of ear pieces loud enough to make him, Sakura and Miyuki wince, but they died as soon as Akiyama's calm voice cut across the lines, barking orders to the rest of Sceptre 4's Special Police Force to get the information he needed.

A clicking sound echoed in his earpiece, signaling that it was a private line. “You should be resting.”

Fushimi stayed silent, ignoring the Lieutenant's admonishment.

“But thank you,” she continued before another click told him she had closed the line.

He glanced up at the screen in time to see her lower her hand as she stood on the edges of where the prime minister was holding court next to the captain. All of the Special Police Force's hands were tied with this many people around and with the captain and lieutenant unavailable to direct needed resources, someone had to take charge. Akiyama would have, but he was more than likely hard-pressed to keep the press and civilians at bay.

Fushimi knew HOMRA certainly was not stepping in to help with such a matter, preferring to stay in the shadows and work behind the scenes in their own way. Matters of government related things were always Sceptre 4's jurisdiction – even if there was a Coffee Table Alliance in effect.

“Sir, Hirasaka Douhan has been remanded back into custody,” the first of the reports came in. Fushimi recognized Goto's voice.

“Lower rank JUNGLE members are attempting to swarm the Silver King's airship, but we are holding them at bay,” Akiyama's voice sounded a little winded. Fushimi quickly brought up a wide-angled map of the area and ran an overlay that delved into the active mobile and PDA units with the JUNGLE app. There were three blue dots surrounding the wreckage that was the Silver King's airship holding back multitude of green dots.

Fushimi sighed irritably as he switched to another screen. He quickly typed, breaking into the JUNGLE app. It was laughably easy once he had access to their security system in order to open the doors for the operation. Canceling a particular mission that had been active since he was in junior high, he sent the command through, instinctively adding a little bit of an incentive to it as he stabbed the enter button.

He received the reactionary reply as Benzai's chuckle rang through the comm. “Nice one Fushimi-kun! Whatever you did, they're starting to leave.”

“Less chatter, Benzai, focus,” Akiyama admonished, but even he sounded relieved.

“We found HOMRA, or at least Kusanagi-san. The Red King Anna is with him. They're amenable to look for the Silver Clan members. Oh, wait hey- Come back!” Hidaka suddenly sighed over the comms. “One of them is approaching the bearcats.”

“Let him pass,” the Lieutenant's voice cut through.

Fushimi resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He had a feeling who was about to roll right up to the trucks-

“Oy! Saru, you bastard! Open up the damn door!” Misaki's voice was muffled as was the sudden pounding on the doors to the command center. Fushimi sighed irritably, absently adjust his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Err...sir?” Sakura asked hesitantly and he glared at her. She squeaked in surprise before shooting a glance at the door.

“If I don't find you resting, I'm going to knock this door down-”

Fushimi gestured roughly with his chin and the woman scurried over and opened the door. The blur of the beanie-covered red-hair wasted no time climbing into the truck, closing the door behind him before Fushimi felt Misaki's weight lean right into his back. He grunted.

“Oy, Saru, whatcha-oooooo,” Misaki's question trailed off into an appreciative sound as his eyes caught the multitude of screens in front of him. Fushimi reached up to his lapel and tapped the button, muting the comm line.

“Congratulations, you're the first HOMRA member to actually see the inner workings of Spectre 4's command center and maybe live,” he added the last part as a jeer, a crooked smile on the corner of his lips as he continued to type.

Misaki laughed lightly, throwing an arm to rest on his shoulder as he kicked up his skateboard and absently twirled it.

“Wow, this is really complex-looking,” his friend stared intently at the screens before glancing at him. “I thought you'd be resting-”

Fushimi looked away, ignoring the concern, but a gentle pat on his back made him glance back.

“But, knowing you, this is probably how you rest, right?”

He could not help the smile that appeared on his face. Misaki was truly the only know who knew him. He focused back on the screens, unmuting the line to his comm, the comforting weight of his friend on one side of him – the uninjured left side a small part of him added.

“Green Clan J-rank members status?” he asked. He continued to type, this time bringing up another screen to a series of forms. A quick glance at the news feed showed that the conference was now in question and answer mode. Munakata was patiently standing and fielding the occasional question, but he could tell by the captain's posture that he was getting tired of the show. The idiot prime minister better wrap it up before the captain truly lost his temper.

Fushimi continued to type, inputting a name in each form before sending it with an enter key. The forms appeared on Miyuki's screens.

“Sakimoto, run background searches on these names. U-ranked members,” he ordered.

“Sir,” Sakimoto immediately got to work, his tone a little happier that he was actually doing analyst and research request. The man definitely was _not_ suited for truck work.

“No eyes on Mishakuji Yukari or Gojo Sukuna, sorry sir,” Enomoto's voice was apologetic.

“Eyes on the parrot, Kotosaka?”

“The bird?”

“Nagare Hisui projected his consciousness into the bird as the Green King,” Fushimi replied, rather irritated. Did no one read the briefings when this mess started?! A soft put out sigh from Miyuki made him shoot a dark look at the analyst. He refused to feel sympathetic to the same sentiments the other man had at the lack of knowledge regarding briefings and analyst work.

“I-I'll look for it,” Enomoto's voice trembled. “I, uh, have eyes on incoming support.”

“Good, Akiyama, deploy them as you see fit. Someone get the status of Yukari Mishakuji at least. Sukuna Gojo is probably somewhere in the rubble,” Fushimi said. “Eyes on Silver Clan?”

“Still searching sir. HOMRA has taken over the search,” Fuse sounded breathless. “I am following per my capacity.”

Fushimi turned his head slightly to see Misaki holding something wrapped in his hand with his eyes closed in concentration. Fushimi suspected it was probably one of Anna's crystal marbles. However, he dared not disturb his friend, recognizing that he was more than likely communicating with the rest of his clan. He instead, looked at Sakura and Miyuki. “Status on the riots?” he asked them.

“Calming,” Miyuki replied, typing a few command lines. “Looks like the press conference is working. Though I have a feeling we'll be having some more incidents with Strains in the next few months after the population explosion.”

“Sirs, we're getting a lot of international community chatter. A bunch of countries apparently experienced the same thing,” Sakura pointed out and Fushimi sighed.

“We'll deal with that matter once we're finished here.” The lieutenant's voice cut into the comm lines again.

“Resources?” Fushimi asked.

“Local police are handling and the military has been helping with riot control. The other Sceptre 4 unit officers dispatched are reporting that they are containing the situation, but they're worried about the more powerful Strains that have emerged.”

“Have them note the levels and do intake,” Fushimi could almost imagine the mountain of paperwork and intelligence sifting he would have to go through in the next few days.

He felt, more than saw Misaki's frown of disapproval judging by the shift of weight on his back. But his friend did not say a single word about getting rest or anything of that sort. “Anything?” he prompted his friend without looking at him.

“Nothing yet. But they probably couldn't have gone far- ah,” Misaki immediately quieted and he glanced at his friend to see him close his eyes once more. Fushimi watched as a myriad of interesting expressions played across his friend's face before he opened his eyes once more and stared ahead towards no particular point.

“Can...I humbly request that only you hear this?” Misaki asked and Fushimi raised an eyebrow. That was so unlike his friend. Which meant it was something very serious.

He glanced at Miyuki and Sakura and gestured with his head for them to step out of the truck for a moment. They did so without comment or any animosity before closing the door behind them. He tapped the button on his jacket's lapel and pulled his earpiece out, muting the line completely. A quick keyboard command muted any potential other lines that might have been outgoing or incoming.

Finished, he glanced expectantly up at his friend who pushed himself off of his shoulder and stood back, leaning against the back of the truck. Misaki crossed his arms across his chest as he let his skateboard lay flat on the ground. One of his feet was absently rolling it gently back and forth.

“Kusanagi-san and Anna found the Silver Clan members. They thought the Silver King was injured, but Yatogami-san explained that the Silver King was no longer _present_ in the body he was apparently inhabiting.”

“Inhabiting.”

“It seems like when the Colorless King was swapping bodies, he swapped the original Silver King's body with this one that we chased last year. Seems like the swap was permanent, but in reality, it was just because the Silver King wanted to hold onto this body and with the loss of his powers, his consciousness could not stay.”

Fushimi stilled.

“The loss of his powers...”

Misaki nodded solemnly. “It seems like when the Slate was destroyed, it wiped out the Silver King's powers.”

“...Then that means...” Fushimi glanced up at the news conference where Munakata was finishing up.

“The Dresden Swords of the Kings who survived disappeared...” Misaki pinched his lips together, coming to the same conclusion.

Fushimi frowned as he stared at the news feed. The idea that Munakata, or even Anna lost their powers, it was unthinkable. He did not know the details of the plan had been enacted. His orders when he went undercover, was to open the base up to allow the Coffee Table Alliance to recover the Dresden Slate. It ended with the Silver King's Dresden Down and the destruction of the fabled object.

“Anna's exhausted her powers when she blew a hole through all ten layers. We won't know until maybe later? Tomorrow? However long it takes for her to normally recover-”

“Or never,” Fushimi interjected. Misaki frowned and he met his friend's angry gaze with a frank look. “She is the only one who can adequately identify if a King's power is returning. The Fourth and Blue King was already suffering from a Dresden Down before all of this.”

“You're loyal to your king, yet you don't hold back on the criticisms,” Misaki muttered.

Fushimi ignored his friend's mutterings. He knew where he stood with his captain and king. “If the government finds out, there will be problems,” he said instead.

“Yeah, no shit,” Misaki replied before absently holding his palm up. A flame suddenly popped into existence before it disappeared just as quickly. “Well...I don't feel any different.”

Fushimi didn't comment. There were too many unknowns, too many variables. All he knew was that this was a very big issue that could affect how they effectively managed the Strain population, especially with the newly created ones courtesy of the Dresden Slate.

A firm knock on the door to the command center startled the two out of their thoughts before the handle opened and Fushimi nodded a respectful greeting at Munakata who stood before them. The Blue King flicked a look at the two of them before adjusting his glasses. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Misaki fidget and avoid looking at the Blue King, a grumpy expression on his face. He wondered what that was all about.

“We'll talk later,” Misaki suddenly said, clapping him gently on his uninjured side and quickly left the truck. The sound of his skateboard rolling away was heard.

It was clear that while there was something not said between the Blue King and Misaki, his friend was also worried about Anna. Fushimi refused to acknowledge the little nugget of worry in him for Anna's safety. Leaving the mystery of his friend's mysterious moods, Fushimi turned back to his screens, placing his earpiece back into his ear and unmuting all lines. He did not acknowledge Miyuki and Sakura climbing back into the truck.

“Perimeter is in progress,” he noted the overlay of more blues incoming to control the crowd and start providing order among those who were closest to the base. Another few keyboard commands brought up the screens for the public works department. “Digging has commence. Akiyama is overseeing that side. Lower ranked Green Clan members have backed away from the wreckage of the Silver Clan's airship. Red Clan has found the two Silver Clan members.”

“And their King?” the Lieutenant's voice spoke up as she stepped up to shadow Munakata from behind.

“Unknown,” he replied. “He has left the body he inhabited.”

“Oh,” the Lieutenant looked surprised.

Fushimi brought up another screen. He stared at it for a few seconds, absorbing the data. “Riots seem to be dying down. The press conference is allowing the police to restore order. Orders, sir?”

“Set rotation of officers to shifts of two, twelve hours each for the next seventy-two hours,” Munakata deftly activated his own comm with a gloved hand. “Akiyama, you and Benzai start the watch in the command center. Coordinate with the other Sceptre 4 divisions. Forward your reports at the end of the shift after hand off. The rest, we are returning to base to prepare for a Strain outbreak. You will receive additional orders in short order.”

The echoes of acknowledgment rang across the comm.

Fushimi typed quickly. He brought up a spreadsheet he had quickly composed based on the incoming support forces. Dividing them up best as he remembered their strengths and weaknesses, he was so engrossed in his preparations that he barely heard Akiyama reporting in before a firm hand landed on his shoulder.

He twitched under the touch, blinking before realizing that it was Lieutenant Awashima who had pulled him out of the trance-like fugue of work he had plunged himself into. “Akiyama's here. Transfer over and let's go.”

He grunted in acknowledgment and made to stand up. Only to freeze for a second as his injured leg nearly gave way. The searing sharpness that tore through him suddenly seemed quite unbearable. Cold sweat engulfed him as he fought past the waves of agony and blinked as he managed to keep his composure. He stepped, or rather hobbled slightly away from the station as Akiyama took his vacated chair.

“Thanks for doing this, I'll start with the division of responsibilities, Fushimi-san.” The nominal fourth-in-command and former acting-captain of Sceptre 4 said with a wan smile.

Fushimi did not bother to acknowledge the thanks and instead, followed Awashima out of the bearcat. He slapped the lieutenant's hand away from his face at her blatant offer to help him down and by sheer force of will, managed to not collapse into a heap as his leg shook from taking his weight. His hands felt clammy now as he curled them into fists in an effort to distract himself. There should not be so much pain from his wound – he had only sat-

And Fushimi realized that was the problem. He sat without moving for the last however many minutes, hours, something. Moving hurt, but it was a little pain he could ignore compared to the lighting agony that felt like it was going to drown him. Sitting hurt less, but once he had to move...well that was the problem now.

Still, it would be easier once they got back to base. He would be able to raid the on-site infirmary for pain killers and then maybe go find an unused couch where he could get his laptop and continue to work without having to deal with anyone-

“Fushimi-kun,” Munakata's voice startled him and he looked up to see him sitting in the back of the car he had apparently taken to reach the base. Zenjo Goki was the driver even with his lone hand.

The unspoken command was simple. The Blue King wished to speak with him privately on the return trip to Sceptre 4's base. He acknowledged the command with a curt nod and walked to the other side of the car, hoping his limp was not as noticeable by anyone else. Perhaps he was finally going to be debriefed – all was right in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

The car was rather luxurious with plush leather and comforts that befitted a king – or a very rich person. Whatever it was, it certainly matched the stately and authoritarian image Munakata expressed. As soon as Fushimi had buckled himself in safely, Zenjo accelerated away, his movements smooth as the swift, powerful sword he wielded. Silence filled the cabin of the car and Munakata let it sit for a moment as he glanced at the passing scenery. He absently touched the comm line to mute it and saw Fushimi do the same.

“Report,” he commanded quietly.

“Access to JUNGLE servers have been established and the process to start canceling missions that have an immediate impact upon the recovery of the Green Clan's base has begun. Network security will still have to be established before a complete summary of all missions can be established.”

Munakata nodded once. They definitely did not know what kinds of surprises were left in the Green Clan's servers considering that was where the bulk of the Clan's power came from.

“Threat assessment still needs to be established regarding U-level members. With information provided by Hirasaka Douhan we have established some of baselines, but a full list will be provided soon. We are missing one J-rank level member, the parrot Kotosaka.”

“Your professional assessment?” Munakata looked at his third-in-command.

“The parrot was the Green King's first clansman,” Fushimi's tense posture had started to relax as he spoke. It was clear he was relieved that he was able to unburden himself of the information he had gathered during his month in JUNGLE. “The Grey King is considered an ally, but more than likely the first one to actively take care of the Green King considering their origins. His whereabouts-”

“He was severely injured,” Munakata reassured him with a grim smile.

“You should have killed him,” Fushimi met his gaze with a square one of his own. Munakata raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised. He realized he missed the bluntness of Fushimi's analysis – even with the harsh words that they both exchanged before he undertook his mission. “Were you afraid of your own mortality on the creation of a Damocles Down?”

Munakata hesitated for a second, used to keeping his own confidence. But the young clansman that sat next to him deserved the truth. “Yes,” he replied. He felt oddly free now that both he and the other kings were unburdened from the knowledge of the Slates. “I have too much to do-”

“Your arrogance will be your undoing,” Fushimi interjected again, a reminder of the words thrown at each other. However, he seemingly softened it with a tilt of his head towards Zenjo. “But I guess if you're looking for a cowardly suicidal way out, that's probably why you brought the Ogre.”

The corner of Munakata's lips turned up in a sardonic smile. “Could a King not care for a populace?”

“Or just get your shit together,” Fushimi replied with all of the bluntness of an anvil.

This time there was no holding back the laugh that emerged from Munakata's lips as he acknowledged the hurtful truth. “Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, what was done is done.”

“A smart man would ensure that a transition is set up if it has not happened already,” Fushimi looked away, staring out of the window. A grimace of pain was on his face and one hand was propping up his head against the window while the other distinctly avoided the injury on his right leg as it rested lightly by his side.

Munakata was not surprised Fushimi knew or suspected what happened when the Slate was destroyed. He adjusted his glasses. “Perhaps I am not so smart,” he murmured and saw the quirk of acknowledgment on the lips of his favorite officer.

“Contingency plans should be in effect for future missions against the Strains,” Fushimi continued as if he did not speak his mind regarding the loss of a king's power. “Also, Research Division should be involved in these tests.”

“Are you volunteering yourself?”

“Unless you're willing to pay me overtime. You already owe me a month's hazard pay and double overtime.”

“So mercenary,” Munakata teased. He could see while Fushimi was clearly at ease and relaxed, there was the sense of forgiveness among the truths spoken prior to the mission and in their current conversation. Though it still stung, all of the hurts thrown back and forth, it was refreshing to him.

“The loss of a king does not diminish a clansman's power,” Fushimi continued, his voice thoughtful, “the Blue Clan clearly showed that for ten years before your ascent. However, it seems while a King's power is on a different level, there are theories that it is an amplification of power as well as enabling new clansmen to join. Zenjo-san is a clear indication of service to the previous Blue King and his service now. You have never acknowledged him as part of your new clan, yet you have brought him to be your executioner when your Damocles Sword was to drop on your head.”

Munakata glanced at Zenjo who had been driving without comment and saw tension line the other man's shoulders. It seemed Fushimi's blunt analysis was hitting very close to home. Still, it seemed the old Blue clansman's loyalty prevented him from speaking out of turn. He sighed inwardly. He only knew Zenjo was one of the most loyal to the previous Blue King, but perhaps there was something in Fushimi's analysis that was rankling the other man.

“The only wild card now is that the Slate has been destroyed. We should search for the Silver King or retrieve the notes from Red Clansman Kusanagi-san regarding the Slate to see if there is anything we can discover about the Slate that would affect how power may be kept.”

“Afraid of losing your power?”

Fushimi turned to glance at him. “Not in particular.” He lifted his right hand and glanced down at it, flexing it into a fist before releasing it and looked back out to the passing scenery. “I didn't have access to my powers while I was running around that base.”

Munakata started slightly in surprise.

“Maybe I am a traitor,” the sentiment was nearly drowned out by the sound of the wheels on the road. “Maybe the Slate finally recognized that when I joined JUNGLE.” Fushimi absently scratched his left chest.

Munakata was well aware that a half-burnt HOMRA brand existed there and that it was burnt by Fushimi's own hand when he quit and joined Sceptre 4. What the young man was trying to prove back then, especially if he heard the stories surrounding the burn mark were true, was rather foolish, but it he did not deny that HOMRA had lost a valuable asset and Sceptre 4 had gained an exceptional one.

“A smart man would have embraced the power given at every opportunity,” instead Munakata threw Fushimi's words back at him.

He smiled as he caught the surprised look on the younger man's face. “Perhaps I am not so smart then...” Fushimi echoed his previous reply.

“But smart enough to realize you are on injury leave for the next forty-eight hours,” Munakata held up a firm hand in wake of the protest he could see forming on Fushimi's expression. “Only then are you allowed back into the office for limited duties. You have acquitted yourself well. Our immediate plan is to oversee the deconstruction and retrieval of information and servers from the Green Clan's former base. We will have plenty of time and opportunity to contain the Strain situation as well as to see to the rest of the Green Clan's whereabouts.”

Fushimi frowned as Zenjo slowed down and pulled the car to the side. The younger man snorted as he realized what was happening. They had pulled up to the apartment Fushimi owned. The address was not even in his personnel file, but Munakata knew the circumstances behind the apartment. It was brought three days after Fushimi had quit HOMRA, but before he joined Sceptre 4. The place was maintained by a shell corporation Fushimi had set up once he joined the Intelligence Division – ostensibly as a safe house of sorts. But it had not been used during his JUNGLE days, that much Munakata was sure of.

Fushimi opened the door and gingerly made to step out. Munakata did not miss the wince of pain that was felt as Fushimi moved his injured leg. The young officer was certainly a stubborn man who clearly did not realize that sitting in one position for two hours in the command truck of all places, especially fresh from being injured, was detrimental to his health. Not to mention the numerous other injuries he sustained, but refused treatment for during his escape from the base.

Even though they were not visible injuries or at least ones that Fushimi did not acknowledge, Munakata knew that they were there because of how battered Fushimi's best and only friend Yata Misaki looked as he had left the truck.

“I expect you to report immediately to my office once your injury leave has completed,” Munakata added and saw the barest nod of acknowledgment before Fushimi closed the door behind him.

Zenjo immediately pulled away, returning back to the flow of traffic and towards Sceptre 4's base. Munakata waited a few seconds before dialing a number on his cellphone. “Have the Intelligence Division prepare a threat assessment on every J-rank member. I also want to talk to Hirasaka Douhan when I arrive.”

“Sir,” Awashima's reply was crisp and to the point as he hung up.

“Not the U-rank members?” Zenjo asked, the first words he had spoken between the end of the fight against the Grey King and now.

“Let us hope that the threat assessment will be unfounded against Fushimi Saruhiko,” Munakata replied grimly. He was not worried about the U-rank members. He was more worried about the fellow J-rank members going after the traitor within their organization.

Perhaps he would stop by the HOMRA bar tonight to see if a certain skateboarding red-haired young man could be nudged to watch over his friend for the next forty-eight hours as the threat assessment was being completed. It was the least he could do now in his capacity as the powerless Blue King.

~END~


End file.
